


A Step Through Time

by ThePandaPopo



Series: Promises for the Future [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe, Azure Moon - Freeform, F/M, Fraldarius Gautier parenting, Future Felix, Future sylvain, Golden Deer, M/M, OC, Original Character - Freeform, Soft Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Soft Sylvain Jose Gautier, Time Travel, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, blue lions - Freeform, canon compliant except everyone lives, mash up of two routes, no beta we die like Glenn, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25927438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePandaPopo/pseuds/ThePandaPopo
Summary: When Felix agreed to go back into the past to make sure certain events during the war actually happen, he expected that he would be the only time traveler at the monastery for those three moons. What he did not expect was for his 6 year old daughter to send herself to the past 2 weeks after himself because she missed him.ORThe one where the post time-skip gang meets an older Felix Fraldarius from the future who tells them he’s there to help for a few battles for reasons he can’t explain and everyone’s dying to figure out who the hell he’s married to - wait, what the fuck he has a daughter?
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: Promises for the Future [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058567
Comments: 89
Kudos: 225





	1. Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from my Tumblr account 
> 
> Me: Don’t do it  
> Brain:  
> Me: Don’t do it.  
> Brain:  
> Me: We haven’t even finished the other one yet-  
> Brain: HERE’S A SYLVIX IDEA THAT YOU NEED TO WRITE SINCE IT’S PREVENTED YOU FROM DOING ANY MEANINGFUL WORK ALL DAY.
> 
> Me: FUCK.
> 
> Some notes:  
> \- Verdant Wind / Azure Moon route mash up. Basically the Golden Deer Route but then at the Battle of Gronder (Ch: Blood of the Eagle and Lion), Dimitri joins up with Claude.  
> \- Dedue is back. Dimitri isn’t crazy anymore. Rodrigue is unfortunately dead.  
> \- All characters are recruited (including Black Eagle students)

It takes roughly two weeks for the Resistance Army to fully wrap their heads around the fact that there are not one, but _two_ Felix Hugo Fraldarius’s at the monastery.

It takes them another week on top of that to come to terms that the newest Felix to join their army is from the future. 12 years, to be exact.

The day that Future Felix - _that’s what they’ve dubbed him and he thinks it’s ridiculous; who has time to say that mouthful?_ \- arrives knocking on the monastery gates, the entire place goes into an uproar. Claude and Byleth aren’t entirely sure whether or not this is just some dark magicks that the Empire has cooked up in a sad attempt at espionage, or if something has gone so horribly wrong in the future that they send their prickliest general back in time to whip them into shape.

Claude insists on tying him up which Felix grudgingly accepts, because of course this all seems a little far fetched - no one has ever heard of time travel magic… _at this point in time anyways_. And like everything else Felix does, it just makes them even more suspicious of him because the Felix they know would be hissing and spitting at them with all the fury of an angry wyvern if they even tried to touch him, much less restrain him.

Funnily enough, it’s his past self that manages to convince them that he’s the real deal.

“This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.” Younger Felix crosses his arms and glares at his future self, as if his stare alone could dispel any illusionary magic with its withering intensity.

It’s a bit weird to be on the listening end of his scathing remarks rather than saying them. But technically he is saying them… or at least the past him is, so really is it any different?

“Well, unless you have a better idea, I think this is the best we’ve got for now.” Claude shrugs and runs a hand through his tousled hair for the millionth time that day. “If he really is you, then he should know a secret you’ve never told anyone, and you can confirm it.”

Byleth nods from her place next to the Alliance leader, “We can’t wait until Lysithea and the others find an answer in the library. It could take weeks before they can confirm that any of this is possible through magic.”

 _More like years_ , Felix thinks to himself. In his timeline, time travel magic is still a completely new thing. In fact, the only people who know anything about it are a select few that Dimitri, Byleth, Claude and Linheartd trust with their lives. The only reason he’s here now is because the green haired mage had somehow stumbled upon a rift in the flow of time while conducting some experiments. Fearing that this small bump could have dire repercussions to the past, it was decided that they would send someone back to Harpstring moon of that year to help along the events that were yet to unfold.

Between the people who knew and who were available, it ended up coming down to Felix or Sylvain. 

Unanimously, they all voted for Felix. ( _”Hey! I’m totally trustworthy!” “ **We** know that, Sylvain, but with your reputation for having a silver tongue, none of **them** will believe you.”_)

And now here he was 12 years in the past, tied up to a chair in the Knights hall in front of the fireplace, patience running dangerously thin at the bickering that has been going on for hours.

“Fine,” his younger self grouses with a scowl fierce enough to make a grown man cower. “But he’s writing it down and _none of you_ are allowed to stand close enough to read it.”

It’s a smart idea, really. And if Felix knows himself, then he knows that the quickest way to get to the end of this whole fiasco is to write down a secret his younger counterpart is too embarrassed to admit out loud.

Thankfully, Felix has plenty of those from that time.

From before things become official with Sylvain.

From before he becomes Felix Hugo Fraldarius-Gautier.

A mercifully short moment later, his hands are free and he’s rubbing at the tender muscles where the rope bit into his skin.

A small inkwell, quill, and piece of parchment are placed in front of him by a silent but wary Dedue and Felix nods in thanks before his younger self more or less shoves everyone back a good distance so they cannot read his secrets.

It is silent other than the occasional pop and crackle from the low fire. Hard, piercing Amber meets warm liquid Amber, neither willing to look away, one gaze filled with distrust and jaded bitterness, while the other watches with silent empathy and understanding.

Blame it on his husband’s bad influence, but Felix can’t help the growing desire to tease his younger self. (Which he knows is absolutely hypocritical because he hates being teased but Sylvain was right when he said it is _just so easy_.)

“How much do you want me to reveal?” Felix dips the tip of the quill in ink and pauses, the tip hovering over the parchment ready to spill secrets only the two of them know.

“…I’ll tell you when to stop.”

It’s a free pass to go wild, is what Felix hears.

There are so many things that he could write. Ranging from the priceless family heirloom he accidentally broke and hid when he was child all the way to some of his more embarrassing training mishaps - one of which involved him falling and stabbing himself on _his own_ _goddamn sword_ \- but despite all of the memories that flash through his head, one in particular stands out the most.

For the second time that day, Felix curses his husband and his perverse influence before scrawling out:

_Bedside table. Second drawer. Third notch - press hard to release the fake bottom._

Images of a very familiar flask of oil that has seen many restless nights flash across Felix’s mind. And if the red flush on his younger self’s face is anything to go by, he would bet everything he owned that he was also thinking the same thing.

A beat of silence. “Not enough?”

Felix is honestly a little impressed. He was sure that his secret sex drawer would be enough to mortify his younger self into believing him.

Fine then. He could bring out the heavy artillery.

_The first time we realize we are in love with Sylvain is when we are 15 and figure out that the burning rage we feel every time he talks about his latest girlfriend is actually jealousy._

He pauses for a moment to look up at younger Felix. Receiving no response, he continues writing.

_The first time we realize how absolutely fucked we are is the morning after the training session where Sylvain takes off his shirt and we dream about -_

Ink splatters on the table and over his gloves as the parchment is unceremoniously wrenched away from him and immediately tossed into the fire.

“He’s real” are the only words the new Duke of Fraldarius manages to sputter out between the fingers hiding his burning face. The poor boy looks like he wants to spontaneously combust and also let the floor swallow him whole.

Felix almost feels bad. Almost.

—-

The days following can only be described as incredibly odd as Felix wanders the familiar - yet different - grounds of Garreg Mach. He helps where he can with the chores and spends the remaining time either at the Training Grounds like usual, or just simply chatting with his friends of old.

A few times a week he will accompany the troops and assist them in their various missions eliminating bandits or Demonic beasts that have wandered too close to their base. Though he is older now, Felix has never slacked off in his training regimen, not even after the war ends, and his current skill and mastery of swords and Reason are more than enough to deal with these minor nuisances.

All in all, Felix is enjoying himself.

…Except for how much everyone keeps pestering him to reveal things about the future.

“Ooooh, do Claude and the professor finally hook up?” Hilda is leaning across the dining hall table with the biggest shit eating grin on her face, the sausage breakfast in front of her completely forgotten in favor of even juicier gossip.

Felix sighs for the umpteenth time that morning and cuts into his own plate with a bit more force than intended. “Hilda. For the last time, I can’t tell you anything specific in case it fucks up the future.”

“But you’ve already told Annette that she goes on to teach at the School of Sorcery and Mercedes opens up an orphanage!”

“Yes, and that’s because I want to make sure those things actually _happen_.”

“So what, you don’t want Mr. Leader Man and the Professor to finally knock boots?!”

To his right, Dimitri chokes on his toast at the mental image Hilda conjures.

Much to his relief (or dismay), Dorothea chooses this time to slide into the seat to his left along with Petra.

“Are we interrogating Future Felix again?” The Songstress doesn’t even bother hiding her mischievous glee as she eyes Felix the same way a predator would prey.

“No, we are not.” He glares at the former opera star, cursing the fact that his friends have already figured out that the years have more or less mellowed out his bark and that he has a LOT more patience before he actually bites.

“Aww, come on. It’s basically a breakfast tradition now! Nothing like a side of future gossip with my tea to get me going in the mornings.” Dorothea winks at him before a flash of flaming red near the food line catches both her and Felix’s attention.

“Hey Sylvain! Felix! Come sit with us.” She waves them over and nudges Petra to scoot over to make room.

“Is there anything you guys want to know about the future?” the pink haired Great Knight asks as soon as the pair are seated.

“Oh tons,” Sylvain winks as he picks up his fork and twirls it loosely in his hands. “But the real question is if Future Fe over there will actually answer them.”

Felix lets out a humorless snort. As if he would.

He makes a point to actively avoid his younger self as much as possible because he isn’t sure if it will affect his timeline in any way. Unfortunately, that also means that he has to avoid Sylvain.

Seriously, how did he never realize that they were basically joined at the hip? Where one went, the other was never very far.

It was a fucking miracle that no one had figured out his lifelong crush on Sylvain considering how much time they spent in each other’s company.

But then again, considering everyone’s surprise at how many of them ended up paired off after the war… maybe they were all just that blind. Or stupid.

Thank the Goddess they were all blind and stupid.

Felix manages to fend off most of their prying inquiries, snapping only a few times at Hilda and Dorothea who don’t know when to stop, but everything truly goes to hell in a handbasket when Mercedes comes by asking the group if there is any equipment or armor that needs cleaning since she’s on duty this week.

“Oh, yes actually.” Felix seizes this opportunity and begins pulling off his gloves to hand to the Bishop. “I need the ink stains removed from my gloves. I never managed to find time to properly clean them since the first night I arrived.” 

He isn’t aware that he has done anything wrong until the table goes silent and everyone is staring at him, or rather his hand, with a mixture of disbelief, shock, pleasant smugness, and overall general bewilderment.

“What are you all…” His question trails off when he realizes that his wedding ring - the one that he always wears under his gloves - is now out in the open, the plain obsidian band glittering innocently in the morning sunlight filtering through the windows.

“You’re… _married_?!”

Oh fuck.

—-

“So who’s the lucky girl?”

_You like Annie. Don’t murder Annie._

Felix swings his training sword against the practice dummy and lands a clean diagonal hit.

“Ohhh, I bet it’s some noble girl from the Kingdom.”

_You like Thea’s opera shows. If you kill her now, you won’t be able to see them after the war._

Stab. Feint. Slash.

“No, Felix doesn’t care for dainty noble girls who don’t know how to fight…”

_Thank the Goddess Ingrid is still reliable as ever._

“Maybe it’s a guy?”

_Nevermind. Ingrid is the devil._

Duck. Side step into a zig zag pattern approach. Upwards slash.

“It’s… forgive me if I am overstepping, but I am happy that you have found happiness in the future, Felix.”

_Don’t kill your king. Regicide is a crime._

Retreat backwards. Dash in for the final blow.

“Yeah! Congrats Felix on finally getting laid!”

It’s only when Felix snaps his training sword in half at the blue haired warrior’s comment that his sword training session turns into a brawl training session.

—-

The Fraldarius Duke has never been more relieved to receive a call to action than when Byleth rushes in not long after Future Felix gives Caspar a shiny new black eye.

“Bandits. In the sealed forest. Civilian involved. Gates, _now_.” is all the warning they get before she is sweeping out the training room doors, no doubt going to retrieve her own equipment.

After 5 years of being at war, they are all seasoned soldiers and as such, it doesn’t take them very long before they are rushing towards the site of the battle.

They have foregone the usual battalions in favor of only deploying their former classmates, allowing them to move much quicker through the dense vegetation.

Up ahead, they can hear low voices talking and what sounds like muffled sobbing. Byleth signals them to slow down and get into position - it’s one of their usual strategies: approach undetected, surround the enemy, and then close in to eliminate.

It isn’t until they get close enough to hear the sobbing more clearly that Felix feels his heart leap up his throat.

He knows that sound. He’s heard it a million times over the past 6 years at all times of the day.

 _Please Goddess_ , he prays as he creeps closer with more urgency, ignoring Claude’s alarmed look, _let me be wrong_.

Of course he isn’t.

Raw panic seizes his chest as he recognizes the little girl with an ornate sword strapped to her back cornered under the jagged overhang of a large rock, her long wavy hair a crimson beacon amongst a sea of green and brown, and Felix is running before he can even formulate a plan.

“Come on, little girl… just give us the sword and we’ll let you go,”

“N-no! Papa gave m-me this sword!”

“Well then I hope you’re ready to die-”

Electricity crackles through the air and his body falls to the ground before he can finish his threat.

“ _Sophie!_ ”

Large, watery honey gold eyes lock onto his and suddenly the battlefield narrows. For one agonizingly long heartbeat, Felix watches the little delicate, red nose he loves so much scrunch up, and he can already hear the tearful wail that comes next.

“ _PAPA!_ ”

Then, all hell breaks loose.

—

There were very few of them that could say they had the privilege of watching the Felix from the future fight prior to the current battle. Felix - the younger Felix of this timeline - is not one of them.

However, as he watches his older self weave through the bandits like liquid steel, mercilessly cutting them down with cold rage, he cannot help but compare it to his current skill level.

He wonders how many more battles he will have to go through before he reaches that level of deadly grace.

“Watch your left!” Sylvain shouts at him from somewhere to his right and Felix grunts as he parries a hard downward strike of an axe.

His feet flow through footwork long ingrained in his mind and in the next moment, he has slipped past the bandit’s strike range and shoves his sword through his chest.

A clean, quick kill.

Felix is actually rather grateful for the distraction of a battle. But despite the battle cries and sounds of metal on metal clashing around him, he still cannot silence the one thought he’s sure is going through everyone’s mind.

_He has a daughter._

He has a daughter in the future. A freaking daughter.

A little girl whose hair is unmistakably the same obnoxiously beautiful colour as those of the Gautier lineage.

_Who in the actual fuck does he marry?!_

The question rings in his head over and over again as he fells enemy after enemy, and by the end of the battle, he still has not found reprieve from the shock that he is grappling with in his mind.

Felix is not aware that he is unconsciously searching for familiar golden brown eyes before the knot in his chest dissolves when he spots Sylvain cleaning his lance off to the side.

But just as quickly as that knot disappears, another one takes its place.

Because as much as he loves Sylvain with all his heart, there’s no way that even if by some miracle they get married in the future that they can have a child together.

Which means that either Felix has married a distant cousin of Sylvain’s or Sylvain has a daughter that Felix somehow ends up taking care of.

And since Felix knows that he would never be able to love or marry anyone other than his childhood best friend…

…that leaves him with a very bitter pill to swallow.

—-

“ _Papa_!”

Sophie is wearing her favourite teal dress with the little swords embroidered on the hem, and even though it is now caked entirely in mud, Felix cannot bring himself to care as he falls to his knees and cradles his daughter tightly to his chest.

“Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” Calloused fingers fruitlessly brush away the steady stream of tears on Sophie’s blotchy cheeks, the salt water clearing some of the mud away as Felix scans for any injuries.

She shakes her head twice and continues to sob into his chest and he continues to hold her while stroking her hair gently in gentle, calming caresses. Even after this whole fiasco, Sophie’s long waves somehow look as beautiful as ever and a distant part of Felix’s brain wonders if it’s just some inherited Gautier genetic to always looks good no matter what.

“Felix! Goddess, who is that? Is she okay?” Ashe runs up to him, Mercedes and Ingrid not far behind him with equal looks of concern in their expressions.

Felix shakes his head, “I’ll answer questions later. Mercie, can you take a look over her right now and make sure she has no injuries? she says she’s okay but she’s probably still high on adrenaline.”

It is the first time in Mercedes’ life that she has seen Felix look this concerned for another person’s well being and she’s already reaching out with warm white magic even as she nods, but as soon as her hand makes contact, Sophie flinches further into Felix as if burned.

“Sophie. Sophie, it’s alright. You’re safe now. I’ve got you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” 

It takes a little bit more coaxing before she pulls away far enough to look at him.

“Hey,” Felix nudges her temple gently with his nose. “It’s alright. You remember Auntie Mercie, don’t you? Auntie Mercie would never hurt you. She just wants to make sure you’re not hurt, okay?”

If Mercedes has any reaction to being called Auntie, Felix is thankful that she does not outwardly show it.

“It’s okay, Sophie.” The healer flashes her a soft smile. “I promise this won’t hurt a bit!”

It’s only when Mercedes manages to start her healing spell that Felix lets the tension and fear seep out of his body.

There are so many questions clamoring around in his head, like how in the world is she here in the past and where the hell is his husband who is supposed to be watching her in his absence, but all of that will have to wait until they return to the monastery.

And, if the matching strangled, heart-broken looks on his younger self and Sylvain are anything to go off of, he’s also going to have to reveal a little more than planned if he wants to make sure that he still gets to marry the love of his life.


	2. Context

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sylvain wallows in his self hatred before Felix comes to provide him context.
> 
> OR
> 
> The one where Sylvain is so incredibly dense and Felix has to all but spell it out for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying something different.  
> My previous chapter was written in active voice because I generally prefer writing like that (more engaging, easier to write etc. ), but I wanted to practice writing in passive voice as well. I've read so many fics lately where authors write in past tense and passive voice and it's absolutely AMAZING, and I wish i could do that too.  
> Thus, I've decided that any Felix centric chapters I write will all be in active since he's technically from the future so present tense is as close as I can get, and any Sylvain centric chaps will be written in passive voice/past tense since it's in 'the past'. ish. kinda. 
> 
> DOES ANYTHING EVEN MAKE SENSE?
> 
> I will be editing this chapter over the next day or so but I just wanted to toss it out there now since it's been bothering me. Hope you all enjoy it.

Fatherhood suited Felix.

But then again, Sylvain thought absently to himself, he always knew that it would. Although Felix put up an exterior that was colder than the frigid Faerghus winters, he was always patient and gentle with children; never hesitating to unwearyingly pass down his swordsmanship if asked.

Sylvain had always loved children, but the problem was that he did not love women. At least, not in the way that was needed to be able to actually form a healthy relationship and conceive a child. Years of being pressured with talks of marriage proposals and being clinically ogled by women who only saw him for his crest had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Not to mention he would never want his child to be shackled with the burden of a crest in this world. A crest wasn’t a status of nobility like everyone believed. No, it was a death sentence given shortly after birth.

He would be lying though, if he said that he had never imagined a faceless red haired child running into his arms with gleeful shouts of ‘ _Daddy!’_ ringing off the halls of the Gautier estate.

But _Felix_. Felix had never cared about crests. No, Felix had always liked Sylvain for Sylvain. The youngest Fraldarius had always had a knack for stripping away the red head’s carefully constructed masks, peeling them away with his eyes like they were paper thin and nothing more than a slight hindrance, piercing down to his very core and laying bare everything that Sylvain was. And even when he stripped away all the beautiful lies and cover ups and only the gross ugly truth of who Sylvain Jose Gautier remained… even then, Felix never turned away from him.

Future Felix was… different.

Sylvain wouldn’t necessarily say that Future Felix was purposely ignoring him, but he was most definitely going out of his way to avoid interacting with the Gautier. Even now, as Sylvain stood partially obscured by the shadow of one of the monastery pillars watching the older swordsman sit patiently while his daughter – _Sophia Gabriella Fraldarius_ , was how Future Felix introduced her - gleefully weaved an impressive assortment of wildflowers into his long midnight hair, Sylvain felt a tightness in his chest.

Although Sylvain entertained the idea of one day siring a child, he would give up that dream in a heartbeat for the chance to spend the rest of life with Felix.

He wanted Felix, or he wanted no one.

But Sophie… little Sophie was proof that Felix did not feel the same.

Goddess. He had taken lances to the stomach, and even been nearly burned alive by a Bolganone spell, but none of those could compare to the pain of having his deepest hope undeniably ripped away from him.

“Sylvain.”

He nearly gave himself whiplash with how quickly he swiveled to face the newcomer behind him.

“Oh hey, Professor! Didn’t see you there.”

“Are you spying on Future Felix and Sophie?” Her mint eyes fixed on him in a cool, calm manner just daring him to lie to her.

“Ahaha…” he scratched the back of his head. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, for one, you’re hiding in the shadows.”

“Professor! I am wounded that you doubt me so.” He clutched his chest dramatically.

Although he knew that his puppy eyes never worked on his former teacher, years of carefully fabricated masks made it second nature and he felt his face contort into a sad pout before his mind could catch up.

Maybe this was why Felix ended up marrying someone else.

How could he ever want someone as fake and broken as Sylvain?

“ _Sylvain_.”

“Professor, I swear I was just passing by and momentarily paused to see what they were doing.” Not a complete lie; Technically Sylvain had just been passing through the courtyard when he spotted Future Felix casually sitting on the grass, carefully watching Sophie as she went digging through the wilder patches of vegetation that had been ignored while they restored the rest of the monastery, on a hunt for any kinds of flowers she could get her hands on.

Except that was close to ten minutes ago and he most definitely was spying now.

Byleth looked at him with an expression that he could only describe as torn between complete skepticism and sympathy.

“Very well, if you insist.” Sylvain felt his shoulders sag with relief. “I will see you at our roundtable strategy meeting this afternoon?” She turned to leave but turned her head towards him waiting for his answer.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Byleth nodded her farewell and Sylvain watched as her overcoat fluttered in her wake. He would have to be more careful around her – the last thing he wanted was for her to invite him to a tea party so that she could grill him on why he was so distracted lately.

It wasn’t his fault that the presence of a certain child was making him act out of sorts.

“Sylvie!”

Speaking of.

Sylvain turned and smiled down at Sophie who was grinning at him. In her grubby little hands, she held out a drooping orange pansy.

“Oh, is this for me?” Sylvain kneeled down so that he was eye level with Sophie and reached out to accept the flower. Before he could wrap his much larger hand around the delicate stem, she quickly retracted her hand.

“For you! In your hair like Papa.”

The bright orange would look washed out in his own brightly colored hair, but he could not bring himself to care and bent his head to allow Sophie better access. When she was finished, she gave his head a little pat of satisfaction and he winked at her. “Does it make me look pretty?”

“Sylvie is always pretty! But not as pretty as Papa.”

“Oh, is that so?” From the corner of his eye, Sylvain watched as Future Felix approached and plastered on the most convincing casual grin he could muster. “Well, I suppose I cannot argue with that. Your Papa _is_ very pretty after all. Probably the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

“Insufferable as always.” Felix rolled his eyes and settled against the stone pillar next to him. The words were familiarly harsh, but the lack of bite behind it made it seem odd.

Ignoring the nervous coil in his gut, Sylvain turned his attention back to the little Fraldarius child. “He looks especially pretty with all the flowers. You did such a wonderful job, Sophie!”

Goddess, current Felix was already strikingly handsome, but Future Felix was in a whole other league. While he normally kept his hair up in a long ponytail, today he decided to wear it down in a braid that cascaded over one shoulder, tumbling in a waterfall of ink ending just slightly below his chest. The stark contrast of the bright flowers in his hair served as a glaring reminder that this Felix was much softer and settled in his own skin than his Felix was.

Silence descended on the pair as Sophie dashed back into the tall grass to pick more flowers ‘to make Sylvie a crown’.

“So…”

“You don’t have to talk, you know.” Sylvain let out a nervous chuckle. At least the future Felix was still blunt and straight to the point.

“Sorry. Nervous habit.”

“…I know.”

Of course, he did. Felix could always read him like an open book; though whether that was from a literal lifetime of friendship or if it was because he was the only one to actually take the time to get to know Sylvain as a person was entirely up for debate.

It took an embarrassingly long time for Sylvain to calm his heartbeat, but after he had managed to wrangle his growing attraction to the future version of his crush, Sylvain had to admit that the quiet companionship was…nice. Not that he would ever say that aloud – given his reputation of putting his foot in his mouth whenever it came to Felix, Sylvain was one hundred percent sure that he would somehow mess things up even more, leading to the Future Felix avoiding him even more than he was already.

He didn’t want Felix to avoid him. Either Felix. But ever since Sophie showed up, his Felix began drawing away and sequestering himself even more than usual.

“…Just spit it out already.”

“What?”

To anyone else, they would have described the look that Felix had on his face as exasperated, but Sylvain knew better. Though he lacked the rigid set of his shoulders that he was used to seeing in his Felix, his crossed arms and cock of the hip was the same as always – closed off from the world like he couldn’t care less. However, the liquid molten amber of his eyes was enough to show that he was willing to wait for as long as it took Sylvain to share.

“Silence doesn’t suit you,” Felix snorted. “No matter how many times I tell you to shut up, you never seem to take my advice. The only time you actually stop blathering on is when you have something you want to say but you’re too scared to do it.”

Suddenly Sylvain wished that Future Felix would go back to avoiding him.

“Sorry. I just-“

“ _Sylvain_.”

Backed into a corner, Sylvain blurted out the one thing that had made a permanent home in his mind ever since he had laid eyes on their time travelling guest.

“I like your hair like this. Long, I mean.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. “It suits you.”

For a moment, Felix looked at him with an inscrutable look – almost like he was sizing him up while also trying to supress some unknown emotion.

After a brief pause, the only response that Sylvain received was a short but amused, “I know.”

Sylvain felt his eyebrow rise in surprise. “You know? What does that mean?”

“Someone told me that they preferred me with long hair. So, I decided to grow it out.”

“Seriously?” Felix had once chewed him out for simply _suggesting_ that he buy an pair of fancier boots for formal functions, so the idea that he would grow out the one thing he took pride in his appearance for someone else was, for lack of a better word, complete _bullshit_. “You’re growing out your hair because someone told you they preferred you with long hair? I know for a fact that it annoys you if it grows past your shoulders and you never really cared for other’s opinions, so what’s the real reason?”

Felix shrugged, dislodging a white daisy in the process and sending it tumbling down before he caught it and returned it to its rightful place. “Believe what you will. You know I don’t lie.”

It was true. In all their years as friends, Felix had never once lied to Sylvain; not even when he was spitting mad at him for jumping into danger headfirst or missing training for a date with another nameless girl.

Whoever said it, they clearly had a lot of sway in Felix’s opinion. Which meant that they must be extremely close to him; close enough that he – _oh_.

“Did your…” Fuck why was his throat so dry all of a sudden? “Did your wife tell you that?”

Of all the responses that he had expected to receive, a violent choke and spluttering was not one of them.

“My what? Goddess, _no_.” Felix clutched his chest as he wheezed and glared at Sylvain with exasperation. “Don’t be stupid.”

“What’s so stupid about that? It’s a pretty solid guess, in my opinion.” Sylvain willed his voice to stay light and aloof even while his heart was twisting and doing flip flops in his chest. “You’d only listen to someone who you really cared about, and seeing as you’re married-“ he jabbed a finger at the glittering onyx band, “-I assume that your significant other would be the only one who could possibly influence your appearance choices.”

Everything in Sylvain’s body screamed at him to drop the subject and run away as fast as possible, but his curiosity made him stay even though his chest felt like Raphael had dropped one of his large training boulders on him. Distantly, a part of Sylvain’s mind wondered that he might possibly be a masochist.

“You…” Felix frowned at him and straightened to face Sylvain fully. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Tilting his head, Sylvain felt his brows scrunch up even as the question left his lips. “Know what?”

Clearly, he had missed a memo and was very interested in remedying that.

“Shit, I know you told me but I didn’t really think that it was true. There was no way it could be true.” The hand adorned with his wedding band came up to scrub down his eyes. It was odd seeing Future Felix look this uncertain; for a guy who had literally lived the present day already, it was strange that something could cause him to look so conflicted.

“Sylvain, you’ve never once gotten me to come with you to ‘pick up girls’, so what on earth makes you think I have a wife?”

“ _Uh. I don’t know, maybe your wedding band_?!”

“Sylvain. I don’t like women.”

Yeah well, neither did Sylvain, but that was neither here nor there.

“You don’t need to like women to get married and have a kid.” Felix couldn’t argue with that. Sylvain was literally the poster boy for a noble trapped in a life of obligation to his crest. “Which you clearly do.” To prove his point, Sylvain jerked his thumb over towards where Sophie was still digging through the dirt and pulling out flowers by the bunches, adding them to the already overflowing mismatched bouquet in her other hand.

Felix’s hand twitched and Sylvain had the vaguest feeling that the man was trying his best not to stab him.

“No, _Sylvain_.” Uh oh. There was that tone again. “I don’t like women. At all.”

“Yeah, Fe. I get it. Women are awful.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why can’t you just understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Because you’re not telling me anything to help me understand! Give me context, or something.” Sylvain threw his hands up in the air in frustration. Clearly Felix did not learn to improve his communication in his extra twelve years of existence.

“Fine.” Felix groused. “You want context? I’ll give you context. Sophie!”

At the mention of her name, Sophie perked up from her place in the tall grass and hurried to scramble over, trampling some poor flowers and quite a large number of weeds in the process.

“Yes, Papa?” There are smears of dirt on her face and grass stains streaked across her dress, but despite it all, Sylvain thought that she still looked as radiant as ever. Of course, that was a given since any child of Felix’s was bound to be beautiful.

“Do you remember what I told you before about not mentioning _that_ word?” Felix kneeled and tucked a loose crimson lock back in place.

Sophie nodded.

“I’m going to ask you a question that I want you to answer. Don’t worry about breaking the promise, okay? It’s fine to mention it just this once.”

“Okay, Papa.”

Felix’s gaze locked on Sylvain’s and he could literally feel the weight and purpose behind his stare.

He wanted context? Felix was more than happy to deliver.

“Sophie, can you tell Sylvie where you got your sword?”

Sword? What in Fodlan did a sword have anything to do with -

“It was a gift from Papa and Daddy!”

Sylvain’s thoughts screech to a halt.

Papa and…Daddy?

_Sylvain. I don’t like women._

_I don’t like women. At all._

For the second time today, Sylvain had half a mind to feel embarrassed at how slowly he put the pieces together; only managing to gape at Felix who looks half relieved that Sylvain finally, _finally_ understands, but also half apprehensive.

_Holy shit._

_Felix fucking Fraldarius was gay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be coming back to edit this again tomorrow. If I feel like I hate the whole passive voice thing, then I might just edit it all out and change it to active, but we'll see how I feel in 24 hours LOL.


	3. Wishes Do Come True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sylvain comes to a horrible realization and Felix learns something new.
> 
> OR
> 
> Mercedes and Annette learn that they should really give disclaimers whenever they tell kids about wishing wells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so weird to write. Originally I wanted to do it in Sylvain's POV, but then it switched to Felix's POV, then I realized that I defaulted to active voice for Sylvain's part and told myself I would go back and change it to passive voice, but then the chapter just kept morphing and morphing and dear lord I don't know.
> 
> Imma just leave it in active voice for now. Because that's what feels right LOL. Maybe I'll have to scrap my whole passive voice practice; this chapter was hard enough to write as it is. English is hard. (Says the person with a major in English Literature).

It only takes a week for Sylvain to decide that his newfound knowledge about Felix’s sexuality is a horrible, horrible curse.

The type of curse that is initially disguised as a blessing because Sylvain is _ecstatic that he might actually have a chance_ , but is really a curse because now he can’t stop noticing how many men seem to linger around Felix.

_Did Felix always have this many men around him?_

Sylvain never noticed it before, but now he cannot help but note that whenever he’s not sparring with Felix, there never seems to be a shortage of male soldiers clambering to challenge the sword master. In fact, if Sylvain is being honest, they all seem a little too eager to test their blade against the Fraldarius heir. Of course, none of them ever manage to win, but that doesn’t stop them from approaching Felix even on his grumpiest of days.

Sylvain doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit.

And if anyone notices that Sylvain is now sharpening his lance with a tad more force than absolutely necessary in the shadows of the training grounds while glaring holes at anyone who approaches his best friend… well, no one says anything because they’ve all seen him skewer his enemies with negligible effort.

“Lord Fraldarius! Sir!”

A new recruit that Sylvain can’t bother to remember the name of jogs up to Felix with a sword in hand and a traitorous part of his brain notes that he’s well built and boyishly handsome.

“Would you be willing to spar against me again? The pointers you gave me last time really helped to improve my form and I’m hoping that you could do the same again.” The soldier stands with his shoulders back and spine straight in the perfect picture of respect, but Sylvain has done this song and dance enough times that he can spot the underlying flirtatious tilt of his head and innocently deceptive tone.

If this were the first time that he had approached Felix, Sylvain would have given him a pass. Hell, even a second or third time would be okay. But this is the fifth time this week that his recruit has approached Felix, and Sylvain cannot figure out for the life of him why Felix is giving him the time of day when he could so clearly go practice sword forms on his own.

So, in typical Sylvain fashion, he saunters over to interrupt their conversation.

“How about you spar against me instead?” To his smug delight, Felix doesn’t shrug off the arm that he throws casually around his shoulder. “I’d be happy to train with you. Plus, that gives Felix the opportunity to focus on critiquing you and giving you pointers.”

Sylvain picks up a training lance and gives it an expert twirl, muscle memory taking over as his feet slide into a ready stance that he could probably replicate in his sleep. There’s something fierce stirring in his gut and he can feel his body jittering restlessly; Sylvain has never been a fan of training (at least not as much as Felix), but his senses are on overdrive today and his mind is focused solely on winning.

“On my mark.” Felix puts away his own training sword and walks over towards a nearby pillar to watch the match. He crosses his arms across his chest and Sylvain can’t help but let his eyes distractedly trace the bulging lines of his biceps that drift down towards a tapered waist…

_Damn it._

Now he’s turned on, frustrated _and_ jealous.

A piercing whistle cuts through the air and Sylvain sends a silent half-hearted apology to the new recruit before lunging forward at full strength.

\----

“You should have held back.”

“I did.”

His younger self snorts while cutting into his pheasant, “I’ve been your sparring partner for years. And I’ve fought by your side enough times to know what it looks like when you’re not holding back.”

A small smile creeps onto Felix’s face. He really shouldn’t be eavesdropping on his past self’s conversation with Sylvain, but watching the red headed flirt stumble over himself with this new information has been more than a little amusing.

In his timeline, Felix is the one who is always flustered – although admittedly less so now, so it’s nice seeing the tables turn for once even if it’s not with his Sylvain.

Felix doesn’t give any indication that he is eavesdropping – his gaze is still fixed on his own meal and on little Sophie beside him, who has her tongue adorably stuck out while carefully eating wobbling spoonfuls of Onion Gratin Soup.

“I’m surprised that you’ve been helping train the newer soldiers.” Felix can tell from the offhanded way Sylvain tosses the comment out that he’s fishing for information. There’s a subtle edge in his voice that Felix can only hear from years of learning how to avoid arguments with his husband.

“Why? It makes sense. Byleth said she wants more swordsmen to add to my battalion and if they’re going to be fighting with me, then I need to make sure they’re up to my standard.”

“Fe, no offense but your standard is a bit high.”

“Your standard is just low.”

Felix is eternally grateful for Sophie when she masks his snort of laughter with a request for another bread roll.

“That’s not true! Admit it Fe, you always have extremely high standards for everything.” There’s a nervous energy to Sylvain’s prattle, like he’s stalling time to build up courage. “Not that it’s a bad thing! But it is true that you have that expectation for all aspects of your life.”

“Really,” his younger self says dryly, “like what?”

“Like your taste in partners.”

Honestly, Felix is impressed that Sylvain held out as long as he did before caving and broaching the subject with his younger self, but that doesn’t make it any less awkward or mortifying for Young Felix. He’s only listening in on this conversation and he can practically feel the embarrassment that is flooding his counterpart, but that will be nothing compared to the absolute disaster this conversation is headed towards.

Is it considered masochism if Felix is kind of enjoying this?

“We are _not_ talking about this.”

“Aw, come on, Fe! What did you think of that recruit? He was pretty cute.”

The violent coughing that follows is concerning enough that Sophie turns to look worriedly.

(“Papa, is he okay?”

“I’m sure he is, Sophie.” _But not for long._ )

“ _What_?”

“The guy I was sparring! He was totally interested in you, by the way. Cute face, decent body, but kind of weak.”

“Goddess, kill me now - _wait_. You… _since when were you interested in men?_ ”

“Uh. Since forever? Fe, haven’t you ever heard Ingrid complain about me? I ‘flirt with anything that has a pulse’ – her words, not mine.”

As much as Felix is enjoying the explosive trash fire that is this conversation, he isn’t a fan of everyone in the dining hall knowing their business and judging by the steadily increasing volume of their conversation, there are at least a few others eavesdropping now as well, curious as to what has gotten the two nobles so riled up.

“What the actual fuck, Sylvain. Why have you never told me you were interested in men?”

“I thought you knew!”

“ _How was I supposed to know if you never told me?_ ”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry!”

His younger self looks like he is on the verge of either combusting or stabbing Sylvain so Felix takes it upon himself to intervene. Sophie, who has since finished her dinner, tilts precariously to the side as her eyelids droop. With one hand, Felix ushers his daughter off the bench and towards the front of the dining hall while his other hand drips the tray laden with their dishes. When Sophie is finally far enough ahead that she will not hear him, Felix takes the opportunity to casually stroll by the two men.

His presence alone is enough to shut them both up and Felix can’t help but let the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

As much as he would love to see the red head squirm some more, he does love the idiot and he cannot help but say something to him and ease his guilt. “To be completely honest, we already had a feeling.”

Once again, Felix finds himself on the receiving end of his infamous glare but he can’t find it within himself to care as long as he can end this conversation quickly. Consider it a mercy to his younger self, or to their privacy in general.

“Oh, and just so you’re aware,” Felix calls over his shoulder as he walks away, his calm voice at odds with the small shit eating smirk on his face, “Sylvain knows about us now too.”

Felix doesn’t stick around long enough to see the consequences of his words, instead quickly catching up to his daughter and scooping her up before depositing their dishes and heading back to his room.

\----

Perhaps it is the consequence of eating cheese for dinner that catalyzes the stream of ridiculous night terrors combined with the fact that the Gautier cheese used in the soup was reminiscent of home, but when Sophie wakes up for the third time that night in tears and crying for her Daddy, Felix swears that he is never letting his daughter eat Onion Gratin soup before bed ever again.

A lone candle sends flames dancing in their assigned room, casting shadows across the walls that flicker hypnotizingly and threaten to drag Felix back down into the dredges of sleep if not for his crying daughter in his arms.

As much as it breaks his heart to see Sophie in tears, there is very little Felix can actually do to make her feel better. He isn’t the one she misses, and he doesn’t have the magical capabilities to perform the time travel spell by himself – not that he would even consider risking the safety of his daughter in an experimental spell to begin with (speaking of which, he’s going to have a chat with Linhardt about how Sophie managed to get herself sent to the past when he gets back).

It certainly doesn’t help the situation that he is due to leave on a two day mission in the morning, which is why he shows up exhausted at Annette and Mercedes’ doors at sunrise dropping off a still slumbering Sophie in their care for the next couple of days.

Sophie may not be either his nor Sylvain’s biological daughter, but she certainly inherited some traits from her fathers; and the one thing that her and Sylvain have in common is that they both like to indulge in sweets whenever they are feeling particularly sad.

And so, with a request to bake cookies with Sophie and a hasty reminder to not let her eat too many sweets lest she get a stomachache, Felix hurries off to join his battalion that is set to depart shortly after breakfast.

Which is exactly how Annette finds herself sitting on a stool watching Mercedes and Sophie cut out cute little shapes from their rolled-out cookie dough.

“Sorry Mercie, I promise I’ll help out next time when there’s less… risk of fire involved.”

Mercifully, the healer simply laughs and waves off the apology; after all, it is no secret that Annette has an uncanny ability to make things explode in the kitchen without meaning to.

“Oh that’s quite alright, Annie. After all, I have a wonderful little helper already – isn’t that right, Sophie?”

Sophie doesn’t reply but continues to meticulously push the Pegasus shaped cookie cutter into the dough.

“Sophie…?”

Peering over the counter, Annette tilts her head so that she can see past the curtain of crimson that reveals teary honey eyes and a bottom lip wobbling dangerously with barely held back sniffles.

“Oh dear, what’s wrong Sophie? Do you want a different shape?” Mercedes coos and gently turns her so that both her and Annette can fully see her expression.

One lone tear manages to drip past long brown lashes before the flood gates open.

“I…I m-miss…” Sophie chokes out before abruptly stopping, her face scrunching up in distress.

Sweeping her dress under her knees, Annette crouches down to Sophie’s eye level and smooths her hair back in a comforting gesture. “Who do you miss, sweetie?”

Once more, a flash of uncertainty and reluctance crosses her expression before Sophie finally breaks down and whispers, “ _I miss Daddy.”_

There must be something else bothering the little Fraldarius, Mercedes and Annette conclude after an hour of fruitlessly trying to comfort Sophie that Felix _will be back before you know it,_ because nothing they say seems to elicit any reaction other than Sophia stubbornly insisting that she misses her Daddy. Any attempts to cajole further elaboration merely ends in Sophia clamming up with more tears, looking guilty as if she has broken an unknown rule.

“Sophie, are you sure you don’t want to tell us more about what’s bothering you?” Mercedes frowns. “Is there something more than you missing Felix?”

Flour streaked hands grab the hem of her dress to wipe away the errant tear tracks on her cheeks. Shaking her head once more, Sophia invokes her Fraldarius stubbornness and repeats her mantra. “I miss Daddy.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Annette pauses for a moment as an idea strikes her. There really isn’t anything to lose considering nothing else they have done so far has helped – not even the freshly baked cookies. “Hey, Sophie? Have you ever heard of a wishing well?”

“Wishing…well?” Little eyebrows scrunch up in curiosity.

Annette beams. “Yeah! It’s where you go when you have something you are wishing for that you really, really want to come true. I like to go there whenever I am feeling sad so that I can make a wish. How about we take you there so you can make a wish for your Daddy to come home faster?”

“I can wish to see Daddy?”

The hope stirring in her eyes makes Annette’s chest clench guiltily, but she’s desperate to cheer up this little girl who has taken up resident in her heart with her radiant smiles and cheer.

“Yep! They say that if you wish really, really hard that the Goddess will hear you and grant whatever you ask for.”

“Really?” Sophie turns to Mercedes with wide eyes in search of confirmation.

Smiling back, Mercedes nods. “Yes, that’s true. But if you want your wish to reach the Goddess, you must bring an offering that is connected to your wish. Do you know anything that your Daddy likes? Maybe something we can get from the pantry?”

“Cookies.”

There’s a beat of silence as Annette and Mercedes stare at each other.

Felix doesn’t like cookies.

“Uhh… are you sure you wouldn’t rather just eat the cookies?” Annette asks; neither of them are willing to call out a child, much less a distraught one. “Maybe there’s something else we can find?”

Even though they’ve only known Sophia Fraldarius for a little while, it doesn’t take a genius to know by the set of her shoulders and pout that her mind is made up, leaving the older girls no choice but to follow along, bundling up mini Pegasus cookies in a Mercedes’ white handkerchief and setting off for the well just outside the Cathedral’s main hall.

Thankfully, it is a relatively warm day and the wind does little to bother them, despite their high altitude. When the well comes into view, Sophie’s excitement grows with each step and by the time they reach the stone structure, the knot holding the handkerchief together threatens to spill cookies across the floor, loosened by her excited skipping.

“Oookay,” Annette claps her hands together and grins. “Before we make our wish, we need to make sure we properly present our offering.”

Placing the wrapped goods on the ledge of the well, all three girls take a step back and clasp their hands with Mercedes leading their prayer.

“Dear Goddess, we are grateful for your kindness and compassion. We offer these items in hopes that you will hear our wish and grant us what we seek. May you always watch over us and protect those we hold dear.”

Taking a step forward, Mercedes makes the first wish. “I wish for all our friends and comrades to come home safe from their battles.”

From Sophie’s other side, Annette goes next. “I wish to see improvements in my faith magic so that I can protect my friends.”

When it comes to her turn, Sophie steps forward hesitantly with her hands clutched to her chest. “I…I wish that I could see Daddy.”

Stepping back, Sophia hastens to mimic the other two and claps her hands twice to finish the ritual.

Even when they turn to head back towards the dining hall for dinner, Sophia carries her wish in her heart and repeats the prayer through the rest of the day and into bed. By the time she finally manages to fall asleep, her heart is swollen with enough hope that it chases away the night terrors and leaves her with dreams of riding through fields with the person she misses the most.

\----

On the next day, Sophie rises with the sun.

Though still bleary eyed and exhausted, excitement runs like electric through her body and propels her from bed in a rush to get dressed in a forest green dress that matches a shirt she has seen in her fathers’ wardrobe.

If her wish really does come true, then Sophie wants to look her best so that her Daddy knows she has been taking care of herself and not out romping in the bush, wrecking havoc for her caretakers like she does so often when she visits the capital.

Breakfast crawls by ever so slowly, time moving with the same speed that her gloopy porridge drips from her spoon, but eventually the dining hall clears out and Sophie is able to drag Mercedes and Annette to the entrance of the main hall where she plants herself on the stone wall atop the staircase leading down to the marketplace.

“To make sure I don’t miss Daddy!” She had declared proudly to her caretakers when asked why she had picked this spot to settle down at.

Burnt sienna eyes focus heavily on the portcullis that protects the entrance to Garreg Mach. Even as the sky climbs higher in the sky and the noon bell tolls, Sophie does not leave her post, instead opting to eat her lunch consisting of sandwiches outside on her perch.

But as the hours of the day begin to count down and the sun sinks lower and lower towards the horizon, Sophie cannot stop the gnawing darkness of doubt that coils in her gut and grows stronger with the fading daylight.

“Still waiting?” Sylvain asks as he joins the small group of friends that have gathered anxiously anticipating the tears that will inevitably come when Sophie realizes that sometimes wishes don’t come true.

“It… probably wasn’t the best idea to give her false hope.” Ingrid frowns. “How are we going to console her when Felix doesn’t come back? He’s not due to arrive for another day.”

Letting out a moan, Annette drags a hand down her face. “I know! I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Now she’s going to be even _more_ upset.”

“Why don’t you just tell her that Felix isn’t coming back tonight then?”

“Because Linhardt,” Leonie rolls her eyes. “We’re not monsters who go around killing children’s hopes and dreams.”

“All I’m saying is that the upfront disappointment might be the better alternative.”

“I’m sure we can just talk to her and explain that Felix will be back the day after tomorrow.” Mercedes reasons.

When the dinner bell tolls, it echoes throughout the courtyard and through the now-empty stalls. The sky glows with reds, pinks, and oranges that are slowly fading into the dark blue of the night sky, casting their last brilliant rays on the earth.

The sniffling that ensues shortly after the bell chime fades is expected, but no less painful.

“Is… is Daddy not coming?” It’s almost unfair how lethal Sophie’s teary face is as it cuts into their hearts.

“I’m sorry, Sophie.” Dorothea says, wrapping up the little Fraldarius in a tight hug. “I’m sure Felix is doing his best to come back soon. He’ll be here for sure in another day or so.”

Leonie flashes her best reassuring smile. “Yeah! I’m sure that Felix will be on his way home soon.”

“But I miss _Daddy_.”

More tears are coming now and the panic among the adults is steadily increasing.

Ashe and Annette do their best to offer small placating reasons as to why Felix hasn’t come back, however despite their best efforts, Sophie’s distress grows and grows until she is sobbing just as hard as when they first found her in the middle of the sealed forest.

“ _I want Daddy!_ ”

“Hey, hey.” Dorothea coos. “It’s okay, no need for tears! Why don’t we get you inside first, hm? Sylvain can give you a piggy back ride, would that make you feel better?”

Ever on the same page as her girlfriend, Ingrid quickly drives her elbow into Sylvain’s ribs and pushes him forward.

“Ouch! Er. Yeah! Of course. How about it, Sophie? Want a ride back to the dining hall?” Sylvain beams and offers up his hands, but quickly retracts them when the wails increase in volume.

“Sylvain! What did you do?”

“What?! I didn’t do anything!”

Ingrid huffs. “Well, clearly you did. Listen to her! She’s crying even louder-“

“ _Rider at the gate!_ ” The shout from the sentry breaks cuts through their argument and for one blessed moment, everything falls silent except for the sound of sniffling and hoofbeats on stone that grows ever louder as it approaches.

“Rider? Not a messenger?” Caspar frowns. It’s an odd announcement – there are very few people who are brave enough to travel solo during war – and the sentries know and recognize the Resistance army’s trusted messengers.

Which means that whoever is approaching is an ally, or someone they recognize… which is even more odd because everyone they know is either already accounted for inside the walls of Garreg Mach or are out on missions and not due back for a few days.

But when the portcullis finally raises and the oaken doors part, they too recognize the person astride the horse, now galloping through the marketplace with hair the colour of crimson flame and very familiar honey eyes trained only on the weeping child seated on the stone wall.

They all continue to gape silently in various states of shock even as the rider slows to a stop at the foot of the stairs.

“ _What the_ -“

It’s undeniable now.

If the Resistance Army thought it was weird that they now had two Felix’s, they were definitely not prepared for the arrival of an older looking Sylvain Jose Gautier decked out in noble regalia with _another Lance of Ruin_ strapped to his back.

The lazy grin he flashes them is unmistakably Sylvain, but when his eyes finally return back to Sophie, his expression morphs into something so soft that it leaves the current Sylvain reeling.

“Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?”

Sophie wastes no time in scrambling to her feet and dashing down the stone banister to throw herself into the arms of the older looking Sylvain.

“ _Daddy_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I'll be making minor edits to this chapter over the next few days, but hopefully it's error-free enough that it's relatively easy to read.


	4. Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Sylvain make assumptions. They really shouldn't.
> 
> OR
> 
> The one where it's Future Sylvain's turn to give young Felix some context.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me as I struggled through a writer's block! I'm terribly sorry this chapter took so long to come out. I mapped it out a long time ago but every time I sat down to write, my brain would just blank. Thankfully I had this entire week off work which allowed me the time and space to finally get this done!
> 
> I hope you all like it and that it was worth the wait.
> 
> As always, I greatly appreciate kudos and comments! <3

Felix is going to kill him.

He is positively, irrefutably, and undoubtedly going to kill him dead. But then again, dying by his husband’s hand isn’t really the absolute worst way to go; Sylvain always knew that his life belonged to Felix Hugo Fraldarius to do what he wanted with it.

Even now, as Sylvain eats what is probably his final meal – super spicy fish dango with a peach sorbet for dessert – he can not stop the content smile from spreading across his face as he watches his daughter kick her feet happily while devouring her own sorbet.

“Is it good, princess?” Sylvain asks, not as oblivious to the lingering stares from his various friends as they think he is. He can hear Hilda whisper-yelling to Marianne from two tables down and Dorothea burning holes into the back of his head from where she sits behind him with Ingrid.

The cherubic smile he gets in return is the only answer he needs. It spears him directly in the heart and for the umpteenth time since yesterday evening, Sylvain thanks the Goddess and any other deity that spares him the time of day for making sure the Sophie is well and unharmed.

Unlike himself once his husband arrives back at the monastery having finished his two day mission.

Or, if everything goes according to plan, the bruises Sylvain will earn will at least be his favourite kind.

According to Byleth, Felix is scheduled to be arriving shortly after sundown, the bandits they were dispatched to take care of being located only a day’s ride away from Garreg Mach. Permitting no extenuating delays, he has roughly half an hour more before his husband castrates him for one, losing track of their daughter; two, not finding their daughter fast enough before she somehow performed extremely unstable time magic; three, for coming back in time himself; and finally four, for probably blowing his entire cover by letting Sophie call him Daddy in front of all their friends.

Sylvain only has a few more moments of peace and calmness before he begins to feel a very familiar prickling, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He likes to call it his Felix-sense – developed when they were in the thick of the war out of fear and worry for his not-yet-husband, and eventually fine tuned through years of marriage and shamelessly spoiling their daughter behind Felix’s back despite Felix’s explicit instructions not to (even though he, too, is defenseless against her puppy eyes that are somehow an exact replica of Sylvain’s yet a million times more deadly).

“ _Sylvain_!”

Ah. There he is.

If he were a lesser man, Sylvain would have run for the hills just by being on the receiving end of the Duke’s infamous glare. But seeing as this is his _husband_ – the man who somehow always manages to get his drool on _his_ pillow even when Sylvain swears Felix falls asleep on his own – the dark knight feels unperturbed about his impending doom.

“Oh hey, Fe!” Grinning at the man angrily stomping towards him with smoke coming from his ears is probably not a great idea.

Let it be known that Sylvain Jose Gautier-Fraldarius never turned away from his husband no matter the potential threat to his own life.

Burnt sienna watches carefully and tracks Felix’s golden gaze, flickering quickly away from himself and down to their daughter sitting next to him on the dining hall bench. Sophie’s presence makes him pause in his angry warpath and Sylvain grins even wider.

As much as his husband likes to hound him for never taking anything seriously, Felix knows that Sylvain is a gifted tactician as demonstrated by his contributions to their share of wartime victories.

That same shrewd mindedness that he is currently employing as he leisurely stretches his arms behind his head in his usual devil may care lazy fashion, Felix’s favourite teal button up shirt stretching taught across his chest, the buttons nearly bursting at the seams. Sylvain’s top two buttons are undone, making sure to show off his prominent collarbones that have faded back to smooth paleness in the absence of their usual assailant.

“Welcome home.”

Felix is absolutely seething. His breath comes in short pants, as if he had run all the way to the dining hall from the main gates; which, based on how quickly gossip travels and how _unsubtle_ the inhabitants of the monastery are, wouldn’t be too far from the mark.

“Don’t you ‘ _welcome home’_ me, Gautier.”

Sophie, blessedly, chooses not to step in and calm her Papa with her hugs and kisses, instead remaining quiet and completely unbothered by this dangerous game that she has seen her Daddy play many times.

Sylvain _wants_ to rile Felix up.

It’s been over a moon that Sylvain has had to live without Felix, and although they have both gone much longer without each other’s company due to their duties as Duke and Margrave, there is something about not even having the option to ride two days straight to see his husband that has Sylvain nearly tearing at his hair from being so pent up.

Sex with Felix is good. But reunion sex with angry Felix is downright _sinful_.

“What? I can’t even welcome my-“

“Finish that sentence and I will _end_ you.”

Grinning, Sylvain eases off, because even though Felix would never outright kill him (Sylvain likes to think it’s because Felix has gone soft for his kisses and cuddles), he definitely isn’t above injuring him enough in a way that would sabotage his grand master plan.

“Sophie, go with Mercie and Dorothea, please. I will come join you for bed later.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Sylvain. Training room. _Now_.”

Sophie dutifully listens. She knows what that voice means and she takes a moment in the midst of clambering off the bench to press her dainty hands against Sylvain’s cheeks. Her gaze is steady, almost pitying, as she declares solemnly:

“Good luck, Daddy.”

Sylvain merely laughs and lands a chaste kiss on ruddy cheeks. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ve got lots of that.”

* * *

He must be seeing things.

This is the only logical conclusion that Sylvain can come to – really the only logical _anything_ that he’s managed to conjure in the past few days since his future self appeared.

Alas, facts are facts and Sylvain would truly be Fodlan’s biggest fool to ignore what is laid obviously before him. But still… _what the fuck_.

There’s no way that Felix Hugo Fraldarius has a hickey on his neck. There’s absolutely no way in hell. No matter that this Felix was from the future – there was still no way. It would be a cold day in Ailell before the Duke of Fraldarius was caught with _love bites_ on his stupidly kissable neck.

And yet the unassuming half up do that Felix has been sporting over the past three days begs to differ, especially when a blissfully cool errant breeze manages to stir the sweat slicked hairs just enough to reveal a rather impressive spattering of mottled bruises along the smooth column of pale skin.

Holy Sothis, Felix really does have _hickeys_.

_But that would mean…?_

The pain from slamming his forehead into the wooden grain of the desk doesn’t even register in Sylvain’s mind. Not when there are so many thoughts and what ifs taking up residence in his mind completely free.

“Still don’t want to talk about it?”

The scent of a freshly steamed meat bun betrays the identity of his companion long before her usual scent of Pegasus and horses does.

“I’m just saying,” Ingrid says around a mouthful of food as she falls onto the seat beside him, “that you might feel better if you just talked about whatever is bothering you instead of bashing your head into that desk over and over. Goddess knows you probably don’t even have any more braincells left to even think about chasing skirts.”

“Wow. What an interesting way to kick me while I’m down.”

Maybe it’s because Ingrid is one of his oldest friends, or maybe she’s learned to discern the fragility of his heart behind the jests, but she drops her tone low with quiet honesty.

“It’s okay to hope, Sylvain.”

Goddess. He wants to. He really wants to, but Sylvain has read enough stories to know that he doesn’t want to experience that fall that comes from flying too close to the sun.

But there is one small detail that derails his hopeful theory and makes the cold black void where his heart should be squeeze painfully.

One small detail in the form of a silver wedding ring adorning his future self’s left hand.

A silver band; Not an obsidian one, but a silver one that always somehow catches the sunlight at the right angle and blinds Sylvain with its stupid obnoxiousness.

Weren’t married couples supposed to wear matching wedding bands?

The first time he saw it, Sylvain felt his heart simultaneously plummet while also leap into his throat. The thought of him _married_ was already a foreign concept, but the idea that he was potentially married to someone else other than Felix whom, the annoyingly persistent voice in his head helpfully supplied, he was raising a child with was completely baffling.

While Sophie definitely exhibited typical Fraldarius traits – Goddess, trying to convince her to eat her vegetables was like talking to a smaller Felix – there were no other physical characteristics that marked her as a Fraldarius. On the other hand, even a blind person could see the uncanny resemblance that Sophie carried to Sylvain and his bloodline; from the blazing red hair and delicate pointed nose to the graceful and unfairly beautiful curve of the jaw – there was no doubt she was a Gautier child.

Which could only mean one thing: Sophie was most likely Sylvain’s biological child, and not Felix’s.

Sylvain knew that he was a fuck up, but even he couldn’t think of anything that could fuck up his future so much that his best friend had to _step in and_ _co-parent with him_ _while being married to someone else_.

As much as Sylvain wants to entertain the idea of him and Felix together, raising little Sophie, and living the happily ever after that a person born with Gautier blood never deserves, he cannot list even one reason why Felix would ever do something so outlandish and selfless as to throw his personal freedom down the drain and burden himself with a child that isn’t even his.

Banging his head against the table once more, Sylvain lets the throbbing pain in his forehead rattle his skull and down into his bones.

And for the umpteenth time this week, he once again wonders if his knowledge of Felix’s sexuality is indeed a curse and prays to the Goddess to deliver him from the hellscape that is his mind.

* * *

He must be seeing things.

It must be true, given how he cannot seem to tear his eyes away from the shitshow that is the monastery right now with both his future self and Sylvain’s gallivanting around the grounds with little Sophie in tow, showing her off to anyone who so much as even glances in their direction.

Yet each time he hears the older Sylvain’s laugh – his real one, mind you; Not the fake charming one he gives to strangers – Felix just wants to grab a shovel and dig his own grave just a few feet deeper. But instead, like the true masochist that he is, he sinks deeper and deeper into the locked up box hidden away in the corner of his heart that yearns to see Sylvain happy.

And he is.

The future Sylvain that walks shoulder to shoulder with his future self is happy, beaming radiant, golden smiles that no longer cast shadows that hint at a deeper hidden darkness underneath the surface. His laughter is infectious in the way that it was when him and Sylvain were younger and running around the Fraldarius estate, shrieks of joy echoing off the walls as they darted past servants and staff calling after them to slow down.

He’s happy. And that’s all Felix has ever wanted.

Or at least that’s what he tries to tell himself.

The silver ring on the older Sylvain’s left hand does not go unnoticed. In fact, most of the time when Felix watches them, his eyes are always inevitably caught by the gleaming of a necklace tucked beneath his collar before being drawn down to a similar sparkle in the form of a unassuming piece of metal that might as well be wrapped around Felix’s own neck like a noose.

While Felix would be the first person to admit that he knows little to nothing about marriage traditions and customs, he’s not such a lost cause that he doesn’t know that wedding bands are typically matching.

The band on Sylvain’s finger does not match the one on the older Felix’s finger.

The reality of the situation douses him like the frigid waters of northern Faerghus. He should have known that Sylvain would never return his feelings. It took two decades for the idiot to finally figured out that _no, he was not interested in women;_ Goddess knows how much longer it will take for him to figure out that Felix might love him as more than just his best friend.

Despite all of this, there is one fact that remains true and steady that Felix can cling to.

No matter what timeline he is from, Felix knows that he will always love Sylvain.

He can see it in the way his future self looks at the older man with a soft fondness when Sylvain inevitably goes off on a tangent about little Sophie’s most recent training milestones. He sees it in the way that his future self grumbles to himself about having to share a room with the big oaf even though Future Felix was the one to forcibly drag him into his room that first night to begin with.

( _Out of practicality_ , Felix thinks to himself. They have a daughter, so it only makes sense for them to both sleep in the same room to watch over her.)

But most of all, he sees it in the way that Future Felix is always watching for opportunities to make Sylvain happy – from wordlessly giving him his own peach sorbet to roughly dragging a towel through his fiery locks, scolding him all the while as Sylvain dries Sophie’s hair much more gently, after they get caught in a rainstorm while watching their daughter play in the courtyard.

Goddess. Why does he have to be so irrefutably in love with Fodlan’s biggest fool?

So much so that his future self is clearly willing to break his own damn heart by offering to co-parent with Sylvain for what is most likely his bastard child?

Felix had once called Sylvain insatiable, but he never thought that it would amount to this. As much grief as he liked to give the redhead for being reckless and idiotic, Felix had hoped that when it came to matters of… _procreation_ , Sylvain would at least have the sensibility to be extra careful given his hatred towards the crest system and bloodlines.

But then again… if Sophie is the reason that Felix can entwine his life with Sylvain’s permanently, then perhaps it’s not a bad thing.

If he cannot have Sylvain all to himself, then he will take what he can get. There is no other choice when it comes to Sylvain – Felix would rather break his own heart and help Sylvain raise a child than walk away and detangle himself from the situation.

Which is why when Felix spots the quaint little family heading off towards the dorms later that night to tuck Sophie in, he merely sidesteps to allow them passage through the narrow hallway, doing his best to avoid watching them with his heart in his throat even though he can feel them staring at him briefly before continuing on their merry way with Sophie’s voice growing fainter and fainter with the dredges of sleep.

* * *

It takes another two days before the youngest Fraldarius finally boils over.

“Heya, Felix!”

Automatically, Felix’s brain catalogues all the possible exits located in the dining hall, but unfortunately none of them are close enough that he can bolt without passing the older Sylvain currently plopping himself down on the seat next to his.

A part of Felix wants to tell him to fuck off, but then he’s blind sided with a grin so fond that his brain rewires itself to bite back his words. “What do you want?”

Sylvain blinks, as if shocked that Felix is actually talking to him for once, and then grins. “Oh, nothing much, just wanted to see how my good friend is doing. Lots of changes and recent revelations, you know.”

“Clearly.” Felix snorts and resumes his meal. It takes all of his willpower to focus on making even cuts to his steak instead of letting his heart hijack his body and stare at the man beside him like he so desperately wants to.

Future Sylvain doesn’t seem inclined to continue the conversation, but his coy smile is evidence enough that he _knows_ exactly what he’s doing to Felix’s insides.

It’s awkward and horrible and Felix is positive that the Goddess has forsaken him when Future Sylvain decides that it’s a good idea to undo another button off the top of his shirt like he doesn’t already have two of them open.

“It’s hot out today, don’t you think?”

 _Yes_. Felix thinks dumbly. _Yes, it suddenly is very hot._

Instead, he manages a grunt and shovels another forkful of food into his mouth – not that he can taste anything with how dry his mouth is and how much he wishes he could be tasting that sliver of skin peaking out from-

 _Damn it._ “Don’t you have anything better to do than lounge around? Shouldn’t you be watching over your daughter?”

“Oh, Sophie?” Sylvain turns his head to gesture over to another table a few down from theirs. “Fe’s watching her right now so I’m not too worried.”

Maybe it’s the offhanded way that Sylvain seems to shrug off the concern for his daughter, or maybe it’s because Felix has finally reached the end of his rope, but something ugly in his gut finally snaps and he cannot help the bitterness that drips off his tongue as he mutters, “Typical.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Sylvain looks startled.

“I said,” Felix seethed, “ _Typical_. Typical of you to shrug off your messes for others to clean up after you.”

The dining hall is probably a bad place for Felix to unload his frustrations, but he cannot ignore the aching in his chest any longer and fuels his anger as his voices grows steadily louder.

“Have you ever considered how others feel having to deal with your messes all the time? Having to sacrifice their own time and happiness to help you deal with your lapses in responsibility?”

“Whoa, Felix. Slow down. What are you talking about?”

“What I’m talking about is the fact that my future self is somehow married and yet he still chose to put his life on hold just to help raise your bastard child.” Felix at least has the sense to hiss the last bit much more quietly.

Sylvain is spluttering now. “Wait. Bastard child? _What_?”

“Do you think me a fool? Your wedding ring clearly doesn’t match the one that the other me has.”

“Wedding ring?” It’s utterly infuriating that Sylvain looks adorable with his brows scrunched up in confusion, but then when he spares a glance towards his left hand and his face starts to smooth out in amusement, the urge to stab him rises in Felix once again. “Oh, Felix. This isn’t my wedding ring.”

The fact that Sylvain is now laughing at him makes his gut churn even more violently.

“I may not have your breadth of experience in love but even I know that one wears their wedding ring on the fourth finger of their left hand. You can’t tell me that’s not your wedding band.”

“You’re right,” Sylvain concedes. “People do wear their wedding rings on their left hand, but that’s where they also wear their engagement rings.” The end of his sentence is punctuated with a wink and Felix wants to punch him.

“So not only do you mean to tell me that you have a bastard child that you’ve somehow coerced the future me to help you raise, but you’re also dragging someone else into this- _this shitshow_ of a situation?”

Theoretically, Felix can castrate the future Sylvain without it having too much impact on his current timeline. It’s a very tempting thought.

“ _No_!” the man has the gall to look horrified. “Damn it, Felix. You don’t understand.”

“In that case, please enlighten me.” Felix scoffs and crosses his arms. If looks could kill, he would have set this future Sylvain ablaze long ago, but the part of him that knows his childhood friend inside and out tells him to wait and hear him out.

Sylvain splutters for a moment and scrubs his hand through his hair. It’s a motion that Felix recognizes from their academy days, an involuntary tick that Sylvain does whenever he’s frustrated and doesn’t know what to do. But just as soon as the vexation rises, it dissipates into an exasperated fondness lined with mischief.

“Well, I suppose I can’t really fuck up the timeline any more than it is…” Sylvain stands and stretches, allowing the loud pops and cracks of his joints signal the kick off of whatever plan he is hatching. “Just watch.”

Felix couldn’t look away even if he wanted.

* * *

Dear Sothis, Felix is surely going to kill him after this, Sylvain thinks to himself as he confidently saunters across the room to where his beloved daughter and husband sit.

They had discussed on his first night here ( _after_ the mind blowing sex – Sylvain is always right about that) that they would try to keep their marriage on the down low, which was fine and dandy considering that Sylvain typically wore his wedding band around his neck anyways.

And in terms of PDA. Well, that was a bit of a hit, but nothing that Sylvain couldn’t survive. After all, he had years of practice with _not_ kissing Felix in front of all their peers back when his crush on his best friend was still a secret and eating him alive from the inside out.

But now. Now things are different.

Technically, Sylvain is doing a good thing. He’s assuaging the younger Felix’s fears which, if his Fe is to be believed, will help immensely with convincing him that _yes, Sylvain is very much in love with him_ and _yes, he would very much like to engage in a relationship_.

So really, Sylvain convinces himself, this is all for the greater good.

He’s only a few steps away now and his Fe turns to look at him, always alert and aware of his husband’s presence no matter the environment. It’s endearing in a way that Sylvain never thought it could be and it makes his stomach flip like a lovesick teen.

“What is it? Why do you look like you’re about to do something bad?”

The suspicious glare that Felix levels at him does nothing except spur him on. He’s much too used to it by now and his heart sings with the comfortable familiarity of it all.

“Don’t stab me, okay?” is all the warning he gives before his hand is tangling in dark tresses and he finally allows himself to give into the urge that always seems to be simmering in his body.

As soon as their lips meet, Sylvain can feel Felix tense before melting into the kiss and he takes the opportunity to lick at the seam of his mouth before diving in to taste the man that he loves so dearly. Like every time they kiss, for a moment the world around him falls away and all his sense hone in on the taste and feel of Felix, and the warmth that spreads through his soul from being so privileged to have married the love of his life.

When they finally part, the dining hall has gone silent and Felix is sitting there with a glazed over look in his eyes that he usually gets when Sylvain kisses him just right.

Never one to pass up an opening, Sylvain turns to where the younger Felix is sitting and is absolutely delighted at the blush that floods his face.

“Oh, and just for the record…” Sylvain calls out in a tone laced with amusement and reaches down the collar of his shirt to pull out a black obsidian ring dangling on a silver chain, “I wear my wedding ring around my neck.”

Somewhere across the hall, Ingrid yelps when the younger Sylvain drops his tray of food.


	5. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Felix is done with his younger self being a stubborn asshole and Sophie is determined to treat her fathers equally.
> 
> OR
> 
> In which Felix confronts his younger self and have a much needed chat while Sophie, who really should never be left alone, makes a not-so-great choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay with this chapter! I wanted to post it during my xmas holidays but I got so caught up with other things (read: sleeping) that I didn't get any writing done at all.  
> I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Thank you again for being so patient with me and reading up until now. Things are about to get rocky so I hope you're all prepared.
> 
> The SylVix PDA thing was actually inspired by art from @emilyliuwho on twitter. You can see the post here.

If you had asked Ingrid a month ago if Felix would ever willingly allow someone, anyone, to touch him in even the most casual of ways, she would have laughed first, then immediately sent for Manuela because no one in their right mind would ever think such a thing.

So understandably, to say Ingrid is extremely shocked as she watches the older versions of Felix and Sylvain interact with each other is the understatement of the century.

“They’re disgustingly adorable in their own way,” Dorothea snickers from her seat on the dining hall bench beside her. “I don’t know whether I want to coo or puke.”

Ingrid wholeheartedly agrees.

Clearly fatherhood and marriage, or maybe it was being _married to Sylvain_ of all people, has changed Felix – has made him more… _domestic_. The Felix and Sylvain of her timeline are already joined at the hip, regardless of how much they deny it, but married Felix and Sylvain are in a league of their own.

Everywhere Felix goes, Sylvain is always there beside him with the shorter man’s battle scarred hand tucked neatly into the crook of his right elbow, his left hand gently securing Felix’s own while also proudly showing off the glittery silver ring adoring his ring finger (his _engagement_ ring, Ingrid reminds herself, as Sylvain had made very clear when he decided that the dining hall was a perfect place to scandalize the entire army with a borderline inappropriate kiss). And if little Sophie is with them, it is like an invisible thread ties them together, ensuring that he is standing no further than a hairs breadth apart from his husband with his daughter in his arms, or placing a hand on Felix’s lower back while he carries their little spitfire.

“I know that couples inevitably begin to adopt some of their partner’s characteristics and habits, but this is almost too much.” Ingrid frowns, finally bringing her forkful of food to her mouth after being frozen in place as she blatantly stares at the happy family. “It’s like Felix isn’t even Felix anymore.”

Across from her, Annette hums her assent. “It’s a bit unsettling, but it’s still really nice to see how happy they are. If you ask me, the really creepy thing is Sylvain’s stare. Have you seen it, yet? It’s like an exact copy of Felix.” Bits of buttery crust go flying from her fork as she waves it around to emphasize her point leaving Mercedes to pull out a handkerchief and mop up the stray crumbs that have found their way onto their once pristine table.

It’s true. Although Ingrid has not been on the receiving end of Felix’s (or Sylvain’s now, for that matter) deadpan glare for a long time, she has seen it directed at others – especially when it comes to anything regarding Sophie who is, clearly, extremely doted upon by her two fathers, even while they try to cajole her into finishing the rest of her vegetables.

“Sweetheart, you know you have to finish your meal first before you get your dessert.” Sylvain’s tone is low and chiding, but the softness of his expression very nearly undermines the authority of his words.

“I don’t wanna,” comes the sad whimper complete with puppy eyes and a wobbling lower lip. “It tastes yucky.”

“Aww, cut her some slack, guys!” Whatever else Balthus is about to say from across the table next to theirs is immediately swallowed back down when not only Felix, but Sylvain as well, levels him with a look so equally unamused that even Ingrid can feel the shiver run down her spine.

“ _Sophia Gabriella Fraldarius-Gautier_. You know you cannot leave your seat until you’ve finished your plate.” Felix says, more stern than his husband sitting on the other side of Sophie, but still bordering the line of fond exasperation. With a grimace himself, Felix spears a few of the sprouts on his own fork and shovels them into his mouth.

“Papa is also eating them too, see? You can be a good girl and finish your food too, right, Princess?” Sylvain smiles affectionately but his voice is strained. It’s been the better part of an hour now that he has tried bargaining with his daughter and even the most patient of fathers has a limit. His eyes meets Felix’s briefly as an unspoken message flits between them before Felix nods stiffly and chimes in again.

“If you promise to be good and finish your vegetables for the rest of this month, we will _think_ about letting you go see the market that is passing through town.”

Clearly, it is an effective bait and Sophie’s eyes light up like it’s Yule and her birthday all rolled into one.

“Really?!”

This is news to Ingrid. The last time Annette and Mercedes had mentioned it in passing to future Felix and Sylvain, testing the waters to see if they would be amenable to allowing them to take Sophie, it had resulted in a resounding ‘no’ and one teary child.

_“This is war, Annie.” Felix had said in a no nonsense tone after a sniffling Sophia had been carted off to check out the pastries fresh from the kitchen. “She has only known a time of peace. Sophie doesn’t understand how dangerous it can be going out somewhere even as simple as a market in times of unrest.”_

_“But it’s not like we’d let her go by herself!” Annette argued. “We would be with her the whole time!”_

_“It’s not your babysitting skills that we’re worried about, Annie.” Sylvain said. His lips quirked upwards in a small smile that did little to lessen the gravity of his expression. “Sophie has a tendency to be ah, a bit of a curious child.”_

_Felix snorted. “Like someone I know,” he muttered under his breath._

_“And so,” Sylvain continued, completely ignoring the barb from his husband even though he knows that later on in the privacy of their own room, he’ll get into how the curiosity may have come from him, but the utter fearlessness and stubborn will to do her own thing one hundred percent came from Felix. “Sophie has a bad habit of wandering off. Goddess knows she’s done it loads of times whenever Felix or I take her down to our local market. The only difference is that everyone there knows who she is and at the end of the day, nothing bad ever happens to her and she comes home with a treat or two and a pat on the head.”_

_“Well then, we can just hold her hand!” Mercedes says like it is the simplest solution in the world._

_“We’ve tried that. We’ve tried literally everything under the sun short of actually tying her to us physically with a rope.”_

_“But what about-“_

_“No means no, Annette. We will not argue with you about this. It’s not safe.”_

_“But Feeelix-!”_

And that was the end of that conversation. At least, until now.

But then again, Felix willingly reopening a topic he had previously considered closed is probably one of the lesser odd things that have been happening recently.

“Nuh uh, little missy. All your vegetables means _all_ of them.” Sylvain scrapes the larger bits and pieces of vegetables dotting Sophie’s plate to the center, much to her dismay. The scraps amount to a decent pile of greens and not for the first time, Ingrid realizes just how wily and intelligent Sophie really is.

Raising a daughter with the will of Felix and the looks and intelligence of Sylvain will surely be a trial in itself, but that’s not a problem for Ingrid to worry about. Right now, she just has to worry about making herself scarce when Sylvain and Felix approach Mercie and Annie before she gets dragged into it as well.

* * *

“Why can’t Daddy come with us?” Sophie asks. Her eyes are wide and sad and Felix will never get used to how it makes his heart wrench. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Sylvain crouches so that he’s eye level with his teary daughter. “Daddy has to go to an important meeting with Uncle Dima, Uncle Claude, and Auntie By. But I’ll come find you and Papa if we finish early.” Sylvain smooths back the unruly crimson curls that are already starting to come out of the half updo that Felix had put in this morning. After years of doing his daughter’s hair, Felix has resigned himself to always fixing it halfway through the day lest it becomes a true bird’s nest at night after the wild adventures to be had.

“Promise?” Her lower lip is wobbling and Felix is starting to think that perhaps Sophie is a lot more aware of her influence on others than they think she is.

“I promise, sweetheart.” Sylvain smiles at his daughter before turning his eyes to Felix, a mischievous glint shining through. “Your Papa can vouch that I never break a promise.”

The wink Sylvain throws at him is met with an eyeroll and scoff, but Felix cannot stop the small quirk of his lips. Sylvain has always come through with his promises, both to him and to their daughter. It’s one of the things that Felix loves so dearly about Sylvain after all – there is nothing in the world that he values more than the trust of his family and friends.

“Sophie, go check to make sure you’ve packed your coin purse and a snack. I need to speak with your father for a bit. I’ll meet you at the gates with Auntie Annie and Mercie, okay?”

Sophie doesn’t need to be told twice. She is already vibrating off the walls, eager to get going and visit the market that she has been dying to see. “Yes, Papa. Daddy, I hope you come soon! I’ll buy you a present, so make sure you hurry, okay?”

Felix and Sylvain both watch as their daughter scurries away, red hair flying behind her as she weaves through the mid morning crowd to join Annette and Mercedes standing at the foot of the stairs leading to the Entrance Hall. When she arrives with a hop and skip, Felix finally feels the knot that has been building in chest since that morning abate slightly.

“Hey.”

Felix jolts at the warm hand that cups his elbow. “It’s okay, Fe. She’ll be safe with you. We’re not going to lose her.”

“I know.” Felix huffs, taking a step forward so he can rest his forehead in the dip of Sylvain’s collar. “It’s just... I can’t help but worry.”

Sylvain chuckles, “I get it, Fe. She’s certainly got enough mischief in her to always keep us on our toes. I don’t think she’ll ever grow out of it, to be honest. Goddess knows I dread the day when I’m going to have to beat back suitors and stop her from sneaking out to gallivant with stable boys.”

“There will be no gallivanting with anyone. Period. I would prefer not to stab someone less than half my age.”

“Oh, but baby you look so hot when you’re all riled up and murderous.” The shiver that runs down Felix’s spine is undeniable and after a lifetime together, Sylvain would know the effect he has on his husband even if it weren’t for the hand sliding to wrap around his waist and the other reaching up to cup a smooth, pale cheek.

“Fuck you.” There’s no venom behind his words. Only the breathy whisper of comfort borne from unshakeable trust and love.

“Gladly, but alas I have a meeting to get to.” The red head lets out a full belly laugh and ignores the half-hearted smack from Felix (which still smarts, because Felix at half strength is still stupidly strong with his damn training regimen). “Are you going to talk to your younger self today?”

The atmosphere takes on a decidedly more sombre note, but it’s a necessary topic.

Felix nods. “Yeah. Annie convinced him to come with us to the market to check out the blacksmith.”

“I’m sorry I can’t come. It would be easier if I were the one to talk to him, but…”

“It’s fine,” Felix shakes his head. “The next battle at Fort Merceus is important and you were a big part of the strategizing. You need to be there to make sure they make the right decisions.”

“Even still. Talking to your younger self about feelings is going to be like pulling teeth. I should know. I’m your very own Felix-whisperer after all.” Sylvain closes his eyes and lets his forehead drop to rest against Felix’s; his soft breath tickling the midnight bangs framing his husband’s visage. “Our younger selves need all the help they can get. Sothis… I don’t remember us being such a disaster.”

“Neither do I, and yet here we are stuck trying to convince our younger counterparts that the other is very much interested.”

“For the record,” Sylvain smirks. The hand that was previously wrapped around Felix’s waist is now slowly drifting lower. “I’d like to say that I’m still very much interested.”

“Pinch my ass in public and you’ll lose your hand.”

“Aw, Fe. You’re no fun!”

It’s the twitch of Felix’s cheek that betrays his amusement. “Tch. Insatiable.”

* * *

Awkward.

That’s the only way that Felix can even begin to describe the odd, tense energy that weighs down their group as they walk leisurely down the long winding roads descending from Garreg Mach.

To be fair, most of the awkwardness is in part due to Felix’s refusal to speak to his younger self, instead choosing to contentedly watch Sophie hop and skip around the flowers dotting their path. Ever since Sylvain’s decision to completely disregard time travel etiquette, the younger Felix had made himself scarce, pointedly avoiding him and his husband as if afraid that he would catch feelings simply by being around them.

 _Ha_. That fucker was already head over heels in love no matter how much he denied it.

“Sophie, when we get to the market, will you go with Annie and Mercie while I visit the blacksmith please?” Felix says it quiet enough that it sounds like it is a private conversation, but in the silence of the forest around them, it easily carries.

Sophie blinks, confused, but acquiesces. “Okay.”

Felix smiles and pats her head. He can practically feel the suspicion and irritation rolling off his younger self in waves, but he can’t really bring himself to care.

He needs to address this issue now because Felix knows better than anyone else just how obstinate he can be, and if he’s right, there’s a very good chance that this younger version of himself will take his feeling for Sylvain with him to the grave out of pure stubbornness.

So when they finally arrive to the market, Felix doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he wants to talk to his counterpart – alone. He kneels and gives Sophie a quick hug after he makes her promise again to not wander off by herself before standing off to the side in the direction of the blacksmith, his arms crossed and waiting patiently while he watches young Felix scowl at the sheer number of people around.

A brusque nod from young Felix and suddenly they are face to face, and there is no denying the discomfort starting to roil in his gut.

Maybe he should have waited for Sylvain to talk to him after all.

“Well? Spit it out.” Despite asking Felix to talk, his younger self pushes past him roughly and begins stalking towards their destination.

“Stop being so stubborn.” Young Felix whirls around at him with a look of incredulity.

“Being ‘stubborn’?” He glowers. “I’m not _being stubborn_. I’m not _being anything_ except for a pawn of fate apparently because _my whole damn future has already been decided for me_!”

Ah. So that is the core of the problem. “Your future hasn’t been decided. That’s the whole point of me being here – so that we can make sure that things do happen as they originally went.”

“Oh, so I’m just supposed to accept the fact that my life becomes sickeningly _domestic_ –“ he all but spits the word out like poison, “- and I’m trapped in a life that I never wanted?”

Felix narrows his eyes. “So you’re saying you don’t want this life? You don’t want peace for Fodlan? You don’t want to actually feel happy for the first time your goddamn life since Glenn died?”

“Who the _fuck_ are you to say whether I’m happy or not? I’m happy when I have a blade in my hand, not when I’m being carted around like a… like a _stupid trophy wife_!”

“First of all,” Felix is proud of how level his voice comes out despite his urge to throttle the man in front of him, “I’m _you_ , so of course I know what you want. I lived that life already.”

He pauses for a bit and then decides to go for a different angle – one that he knows has always worked with him when Sylvain tries to talk him down from stabbing some of the more pompous nobles during trade talks.

He takes a deep breath to ground himself. “But you’re still you. I can’t say I know exactly what you’re feeling, but I can imagine because at the core of everything, I know what I used to be like back then. And I also know that no matter what timeline I exist in, there will always be one thing that remains constant.”

It’s true. There is one truth that Felix knows will span the test of time and space no matter what version of himself he is dealing with.

“…Are you ever going to tell me what it is?” Young Felix mutters angrily, breaking their brief standstill.

Marriage really has made him soft, Felix thinks as he feels the corners of his mouth curl up in a smile. He can practically hear Sylvain in his head telling him about how he probably has his ‘ _dopey love face’_ on right now and his eyes are all ‘ _melted amber’_. What a sentimental fool.

“I think you know.”

“Ugh,” Young Felix scowls and turns away to glare at the bucket of swords in front of the blacksmith’s stall. It’s an admission if Felix has ever heard one, and he knows that his younger self _does_ know.

Despite what the majority of Fodlan thinks, Felix is quite capable at reading people’s emotions. He knows when people feel uncomfortable or when they might need a kind word, but for the most part, he just doesn’t care enough to coddle them because he knows it will only do them more harm than good. Which is exactly why he decides to jump straight to the truth.

“It’s okay to love him, you know.”

Young Felix freezes. The stiff set of his shoulders hunch up almost protectively and he stubbornly stays facing away from him.

“I know…” Felix swallows the lump in his throat, “I know that it’s hard to even think about letting anyone in after Glenn – how hard it is to trust someone enough and believe that they won’t just leave you like everyone else inevitably does.”

Felix touches the obsidian ring on his left hand. He spins it absently and the smooth slide of the black band against his hand grounds him.

“Mother… Glenn… and then Father…” Felix has long made his peace with his father’s death, but there is still the faintest of stings in his heart when he thinks about it. “They all left us. But Sylvain has always been there. He was there when Mother died. He stayed with us for weeks after Glenn died. And he never pitied or babied us when Father died. He was just _there_.”

It’s a bit hazy, most memories from the war blur together honestly, but Felix does remember the days after the battle at Gronder with crystal clarity – those few painful days after his father’s sacrifice. No matter how many times he told Sylvain to leave, no matter how he yelled at him or tried to chase him away, Sylvain stood by him, steadfast and most importantly, without judgement.

He simply let Felix _be_.

And that was exactly what he needed.

“He’s the biggest idiot in Fodlan, but you and I both know that Sylvain does everything in his power to care for his friends and family.” Felix says it like it like he’s stating the obvious. “He’s also irresponsible and completely reckless, and Goddess knows that moron wouldn’t sustain half of his injuries if he just trained more, but he does remember our promise. And he’s doing his best to keep it while also making sure we stay alive.”

Felix steps forward so that he’s now standing side by side with his younger self. From his peripheral vision, he can see the furrowed brow and tightly pursed lips that he knows only happens when he begrudgingly agrees.

“I know you don’t believe in a fated future. Honestly, neither do I. But if there’s one thing I can tell you for certain, it is that loving Sylvain, and being loved in return, is the best thing that will ever happen to you.” Felix allows the warmth in his chest to bloom. While that feeling may have scared him once upon a time, he’s learned to become fond of it because he knows that the only reason he can feel this way is because he has come so far and conquered all his demons along the way.

“You’re disgustingly sentimental.”

“Maybe so, but I can still kick your ass.”

Young Felix snorts, “maybe then I’d actually have a good spar for once that isn’t against the professor.”

Felix laughs quietly, the heavy weight on his chest lifting just as the tension eases out of Young Felix’s stance. The truth is out there, and at least his younger self isn’t denying things anymore, but ultimately it will be up to Young Felix to decide the path he wants to take.

Felix Fraldarius is many things, but most importantly he is not a coward, which is why despite not having verbally settled the matter with his younger self, he knows with absolute certainty that Young Felix will never turn away from Sylvain, especially not when he’s been given permission to chase that happiness that he’s longed for.

* * *

Sophie decides very quickly that the market is her new favourite place. Forget the kitchens and all their yummy baked treats, the marketplace has all that and _more_.

Everywhere she looks, there is something new to see. Stalls upon stalls are lined with various treasures and fancy looking things that no amount of tears would help escape the wrath of her fathers if, by some stroke of bad luck, she is unfortunate enough to break them.

“Auntie Mercie! _Look_ , Balloons!”

Sophie tugs on the healer’s hands eagerly, careful not to let go and wander off though there is a tiny whisper in her heart that tempts her so. The large inflated animals sway merrily in the breeze, and with the hustle and bustle of the environment around them, it almost looks as if they are dancing with excitement.

“Oh, aren’t they adorable? Would you like one, Sophie?” Mercedes claps her hands together, looking just as delighted as Sophie feels and soon, the trio of females is making their way through the surprisingly large crowd that has gathered for this lively gathering as a reprieve from the war.

“The fox,” Sophie pulls on Mercedes’ hand even more urgently the closer they get. “I want the fox, please, Auntie Mercie!”

“What about the cat, Sophie? That’s one is pretty cute.” Annette giggles. The red headed mage ducks and peers left and right at the variety of floating animals attached to the belt of the balloon vendor. There is already a gaggle of children forming around the man as he hands ribbons off to parents in exchange for gold, and although Sophie feels like she might burst if she has to wait any longer, she knows to wait her turn for the man to address her.

“Hello there, young miss. And what can I get for you today?” When the man finally turns his kind face towards her, Sophie cannot tear her eyes away from her goal. “Perhaps a bird? Or maybe a puppy?”

Sophie’s voice comes out breathy and excited. Reaching a hand up, she points eagerly, “the fox please. Can I have the fox?”

“Of course! Why don’t you reach out your hand for me and I’ll tie it to your wrist?”

Obediently, Sophie sticks out her left arm and watches, enraptured as the white ribbon loops delicately around her wrist, loose enough that she can slip her hand out if she really wanted to, but tight enough that the balloon will not fly away. Reaching into the small coin purse attached to her hip, Sophie carefully counts out the appropriate amount and hands them over.

“Thank you!” Sophie calls out after the vendor as Annette and Mercedes begin leading her away from the throng. It’s much too crowded now, but the little Fraldarius-Gautier cannot help but feel comforted by her floating guardian. Papa did always say that her Daddy was ‘sly as a fox’ after all, and it feels like her father is there with her when she sees it.

“Do you think Daddy will like it?” Sophie mumbles shyly when they’ve walked far enough that the screams of delighted children are nothing more than a whisper in the distance.

“I’m sure Sylvain will love it!” Mercedes says sweetly. The healer looks at Sophie with a mixed expression, almost like she is trying to solve a puzzle that she can’t quite figure out, before Annette interrupts her with a gasp.

“Mercie, there’s the sweets vendor that we’ve been looking for!”

Sweets? Sweets are good. That sounds like something Sophie is _definitely_ interested in.

“Come on,” Annette urges. She grabs Mercedes by the hand and by extension, also Sophie, who is clutching onto her other one, and she drags them with haste towards a brightly colored stall laden with pastries and sweet treats of all kinds.

The saccharine smell wafting from the baked goods makes Sophie’s mouth water, but her eyes dart from one flamboyantly decorated cupcake to another, helplessly unable to pick a favourite.

“Hey! I remember you two!” The friendly looking lady behind the counter smiles as they approach. “You ladies came by my stall the last time I was in town, didn’t you?”

Annette flushes and nods. “The sweets were so good, we just had to make a return visit and pick up some more!” Despite her embarrassment, she is already reaching out to grab a fluffy looking cream pastry that looks more like a cloud than anything else.

“I’m so glad you like them, miss. Business has slowed down recently because of the war. Not much extra money to go towards frivolous things like sweets anymore, you know?” Sophie frowns. _War? What war?_ “Regular patrons like you are always appreciated.”

“Oh, and look at you, you sweet little thing,” Suddenly the attention is turned towards Sophie and any lingering confusion flies out the window. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Sophie!” With her fathers’ voices in the back of her head telling her to mind her manners, Sophie flashes her brightest smile and bobs gracefully into a quick curtsey. “It’s very nice to meet you. Your sweets look so yummy!”

“They’re the best in all of Fodlan, that’s for sure!” The kind looking lady proudly puffs her chest. “Have you ever tried some, little miss? Since it’s your first time, why don’t you go pick one and I’ll let you try it on the house.”

“Really?” Sophie’s eyes round with excitement. Daddy was right – being well mannered really does bring good things!

There are so many choices to choose from that it feels a little bit overwhelming, but eventually a beautiful deep red velvet cupcake topped with a mountain of chocolate frosting and a small candied cherry catches Sophie’s eye.

She likes cherries. She likes cupcakes. That’s two in one, isn’t it? It’s a perfect deal.

“Good choice, little miss. That’s our red velvet cupcake with black forest icing. It’s one of our more popular cakes; especially with the ladies.” The sweets lady holds out the cupcake to her and Sophie quickly lets go of Mercedes’ hand to receive it.

The monstrosity of a cupcake is so large that it takes Sophie both hands to hold it, taking great pains to not drop it nor smear any icing on her dress. She still remembers the scolding Papa had given her over the grass and mud stains in her dress a couple of weeks ago and is _not_ eager to repeat that experience.

Above, her red fox sways gently to and fro, moving every time Sophie maneuvers her hands to nibble away at equal parts frosting and icing. She has long since tuned out from the conversation between the nice sweets lady and Mercedes and Annette, instead choosing to savor and enjoy her treat while it lasts.

Sophie is halfway done her cupcake when a raucous of children shrieking with delight steals her attention back in the direction of the balloon man. There, in the middle of a cluster of children stands a rather short and odd-looking man carting around a small trolley packed with stuffed animals, and at the very bottom, shoved against a dopey looking tiger and a rather ferocious lion is a black cat stuffy, complete with slitted golden eyes stitched painstakingly above some wiry whiskers and a kitten pout.

It’s the most wonderful stuffed kitty Sophie has ever seen. She has a present for Daddy, but what about Papa? Surely Papa would also like a gift – it’s only fair since Daddy gets one, right? Right. Her fathers had always taught her to treat everyone equally, and Sophie feels like that must include her family as well.

Annette and Mercedes are still engrossed in conversation with the Sweets Lady, but now their arms are full of bags laden with goodies they are no doubt brining back to the monastery. An itch like no other claws its way up Sophie’s chest and she really, _really_ wants to ask for permission to go see the toy merchant, but she doesn’t want to interrupt what looks to be a very lively conversation.

One quick glance back makes the anxiousness double as the man begins to move towards an intersection across the courtyard from them. If he goes any further, he will turn the corner and Sophie will lose sight of him.

The gleeful squealing of laughter is getting farther and farther away now. She really should tell Mercedes and Annette where she is going, but she’s running out of time and Sophie will be absolutely heartbroken if her Papa is sad that he did not get a gift from her as well.

It will only be for a quick minute. She isn’t going very far. All she will do is go up to the merchant and buy the cat stuffy and return back to the sweets stall in no time at all.

Right?

.

.

.

In that split second, Sophie makes a decision.

She turns back towards the bustling market square and runs.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to know my progress on fics? Check me out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/PopoWrites)
> 
> Sometimes [Tumblr](https://thepandapopo.tumblr.com/) will see a fic update before ao3, so be sure to follow me there as well!


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